


In Good Repair

by obsolete_theory (ersatzbeta)



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Angst, Canon Incest, M/M, canon child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:31:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ersatzbeta/pseuds/obsolete_theory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All things considered, they're in good repair.</p><p>Written (at the time, anonymously) for the saiyukianonkink meme on LJ. Original prompt was "Canon-esque AU in which hanyou are even more reviled. As a consequence of his pariah status, Gojyo has never had sex before meeting Hakkai."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Good Repair

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to let you know that this is a bit different, stylistically, than what I might normally write. Among other things, I've deliberately left out the quotation marks around dialogue.

Hakkai lived alone. He walked the same three miles into town and the same three miles back to his empty little house every time he needed something: rice, a bale of twine, nails. He tried to make do as best as he could.

Hakkai's life was full of holes that needed patching. Everything was so empty, inside and out. Even Kanaan's grave, beneath the apple tree, felt empty. In truth, it was a ceremonial marker. Her body had burned when the castle did, and so her photograph took the place of her body in the earth. His heart was buried there, Hakkai thought. He brought her flowers every day.

And then, one miserable, rainy night, Hakkai stumbled over a body in the road. It was a man, a man with red hair and red eyes. A hanyou. He bled through his shirt, spilling red all over the road. Collapsed, lying prone in the dirt-turned-mud, he looked crumpled and small. He was still breathing, was barely conscious. Had he been attacked? By whom? He needed a healer from the temple. Can you hear me? I need to get you to the temple. It's not too far. Just hang on. Hakkai picked him up, was going to carry him the eight miles to the temple even though he wasn't sure the man would last that long. No, said the man. No monks. They'll--the man with the red hair passed out. His face looked so young beneath the bruises.

Hakkai took him home instead. He patched him up as best as he could, which was a marked improvement on bleeding to death. Days later, the man woke.

My name is Hakkai. What is your name?  
Gojyo.  
Where did you come from, Gojyo?  
The man shook like a rabbit caught in a snare by its hind feet.  
Here and there. Home.  
Where's home?  
Nowhere. Leave me alone. His eyes skittered around the room and Hakkai knew he was remembering, seeing things that weren't there now but once upon a time had been. Gojyo rolled over.

Sometimes, while he healed, Gojyo just stared up at the ceiling over the bed, never a word spoken. Hakkai knew how it was, to exist in the places between the cracks in the ceiling's plaster. Hakkai sat on the edge of the bed and smoked Gojyo's cigarettes for him because Gojyo's wounds were still too raw. He blew the smoke onto Gojyo, who smiled and took deep breaths. Hakkai smiled back and felt burned on the inside.

It was better when they talked. Hakkai could see, then, the sort of man Gojyo was: charming, confident, easy with his smile. It was enough to make Hakkai forget, even face-to-face, that this man was a hanyou, reviled above all else in Shangri-La.

He discovered Gojyo played poker. They whiled away the evenings playing endless hands of it. Not much else I can do, said Gojyo. They don't let halfbreeds live happy lives with nice jobs, so I learned poker. I can keep myself fed and dressed, at least, if nobody's trying to kill me.

Is it only you? Do you have a family, Gojyo?

Gojyo had been on his own since he turned fifteen and his mom couldn’t take it any more and it was kill or be killed. Mother--step-mother—was bad to him. The outside world was worse. Mother'd only hated him because of father. The rest of the world hated him for him. Halfbreeds are dangerous. Everyone knows that. She had to protect herself from me. I…wasn't a good kid.

Gojyo had a habit of touching his throat when he was thinking or nervous, and Hakkai saw a band of scars there, faint but shiny. They were right where a collar might go, if Gojyo were a dog. It hadn't been enough to save her in the end. He wished she'd taken him with her when she went.

I had a brother, too, but he couldn't take it no more, either. Up and left one day. He fucked her, ya know. Kept Ma happy when I was too little to defend myself. But I always wanted her to like me, to do me and not him. He shifted in the bed and indicated Hakkai should light a cigarette for him. I still can't get over that she didn't take up with me, once he left. Jealousy's a bitch, man, no matter if it's wrong, no matter if she's been dead for years.

Gojyo turned his face away.

Oh, Gojyo. There was pity in Hakkai's voice.

Hakkai ached for him. He lit the cigarette and left it smoking, like incense, in an ashtray at the side of the bed.

 

Hakkai sat beneath the apple tree and talked to Kanaan's gravestone. I don't know what to do. Bad enough that I am who I am, but a hanyou? They'll kill him if they find him. They'll kill me for keeping him safe. Or they'd try. Hakkai fingered the limiters that marched up the curve of his ear. He didn't want to kill anyone, but he'd do it to defend the two of them.

Hakkai went to the temple to talk to Sanzo, the only monk he knew who disliked how half-youkai people were treated. And even that dislike, Hakkai suspected, was fostered out of a general antipathy toward the other monks, rather than actual caring about others.

It's criminal, said Hakkai. Is there nothing I can do? Sanzo shook his head. It's the law of the land. Go bother someone else with your whining. Come back if you have something to say that won't waste my time. Come back when you're ready to do something with the rest of your miserable life. Hakkai walked the eight miles home in silence.

 

Gojyo's wounds began to close.

And one day soon after, Gojyo offered, one hand reached out to hook Hakkai's belt. Haven't got any money, haven't got any way to thank you but this. But Hakkai saw his hands shake, saw how tightly he held his jaw when he spoke. No. He pushed Gojyo, gently, aside.

No, no, it's not because you're a half-breed. You're not ugly. Hakkai fought not to touch his limiters. What would Gojyo say if he knew, if he saw the ugly truth? Would he offer his body then? It wasn't right. Hakkai turned Gojyo down—and didn't he laugh thinking it—out of the goodness of his heart.

It was because it had only been three months since Kanaan died. It was because Gojyo's wounds were still healing, and Hakkai's had just finished. It was because, when Gojyo healed more, they would have matching scars. It was because Gojyo was imperfect, beautiful, and looked and acted so very young, beneath his façade of world-wise toughness. Hakkai felt ancient by comparison. I am full of sin, Hakkai thought. And I am very alone. He thought of Gojyo's red hair and red eyes. He thought of tan skin and a scar just like his, and he burned inside where his heart used to be.

 

When Hakkai came home from another trip into town to buy vegetables and extra soap, he found Gojyo lounging on the porch. He had dyed his beautiful, bright hair a muddy brown. He'd done it himself with acorns and bark cooked down and spread on until it dried, in the sun, into a crust. It'd been hell to wash out, but it wasn't anything Gojyo hadn't done before. Hakkai didn't say anything about the change.

See? said Gojyo. I can go outside again. No one'll know what I am. So when can I meet your friends? Hakkai froze. They're at the temple, said Hakkai. He chose his words carefully. One of them is a priest. I don't know that you'd want to meet him.

I can wear contacts, said Gojyo. Or sunglasses. He looked, wistfully, in the direction the town lay. And my hair's dyed. I can do it again, fresh. Maybe black would be nice. More normal. What do you think? Hakkai nodded, thought he hated the idea of it.

It was dangerous. How was Hakkai supposed to look after Gojyo if he insisted on plunging himself into danger? But Hakkai couldn't say this aloud. The silence between them grew. I think you should cut your hair too, said Hakkai, when he'd at last formed his thoughts into something harmless. You'll be less recognizable that way. He didn't have the heart to say no when Gojyo asked him to do it for him.

Gojyo shook when Hakkai cut his hair. Hakkai wasn't certain if it was because he was so attached to having long hair or if it was because it involved having the wickedly sharp scissors so close to his face. Gojyo wore a bandanna for a week before he finally got used to the change. The sight of Gojyo's hair shorn, the stark black color of it, shocked Hakkai over and over. The scars on his cheek stood out less, and Gojyo didn't look like the same person at all, until he smiled at Hakkai. But when he did…His smile stole all reason from Hakkai.

 

The next time Gojyo offered, Hakkai said yes. He was only human. So to speak.

 

Hakkai sank onto his knees on the bed. He could hardly breathe. The touch of Gojyo's hand, hesitant. The way he turned his head aside was intoxicating. I'm not afraid of you, said Hakkai. I want to be here, with you. Hakkai drew Gojyo to him. Gojyo, in his arms, was awkward and unsure. Heat flared up inside Hakkai. He was careful not to touch the new, tender scar that clawed across Gojyo's abdomen.

So is this a yes, said Gojyo. This will make us even. His red eyes were dark with doubt. I don't care about money or thank-yous, said Hakkai. I'm a selfish person, really. I'm doing this because I want to, because I want you.

Hakkai pressed his lips against Gojyo's. His skin was so soft, and Hakkai could feel the beating of his heart. He looked at Gojyo's eyes. They were wide. Too wide. He looked stunned. Gojyo pulled away like he'd been burned. Shh, says Hakkai, it's all right.

It's supposed to feel like that? Gojyo's voice was soft too, soft and shaky and full of wonder. Hakkai was taken aback. You've never? No. Who the fuck wants to do a half-blood? They'd sooner kill me than fuck me. Rape me, maybe, but that probably isn't what you mean. And Hakkai knew this could be the first time in Gojyo's life that anyone hadn't touched him to hurt him. He'd seen the ladders of scars that climbed Gojyo's body, and yet, until this moment, Hakkai had thought there must have been some kindness, somewhere, for him. His eyes lingered on Gojyo's throat, and Gojyo looked him in the eyes.

Gojyo said, I'd put a collar on for you, if you wanted. He said it like it wasn't anything important, but Hakkai felt how badly Gojyo feared the prospect. Hakkai squeezed him tight and shook his head. No, I don't want that. Unspoken was that Gojyo didn't ever have to wear a collar again, not if he didn't want to. Gojyo brushed against Hakkai's limiters. And what about you? I know what chains look like.

I need them, Hakkai said. They're so I won't hurt you. You wouldn't hurt me, said Gojyo.

They hardly did anything at all—the brush of a hand down Gojyo's chest; the whisper of a finger between the cheeks of his buttocks; a steady, light pressure on his cock. Oh god, said Gojyo. I had no fucking clue. Hakkai petted Gojyo's lower back. Gojyo shivered and his eyes screwed themselves shut. Hakkai stroked himself and he stroked Gojyo, simply, without finesse, and Gojyo came. Please, look at me, said Hakkai. Red eyes fastened on Hakkai's hand and cock, still working, and Gojyo's hand drifted over to Hakkai. Lemme help, said Gojyo. And hardly did his fingers encircle Hakkai than Hakkai came, too.

Afterward, after they laid on the bed, feet touching, and after they cleaned up, Hakkai took Gojyo into the garden to the apple tree. The moon was up and it bathed everything in white light. Gojyo's arm was warm around his shoulders, and he held Hakkai tight, even as Hakkai told him all the terrible things he'd done. 'S no worse than I'd done, said Gojyo. C'mon. Let's go inside.

 

All right, said Hakkai, the following week. I'll ask my friend to come. It's time for proper introductions. I don't know that you're well enough to walk all the way to his temple yet. So Hakkai left early the next morning, walked there as quickly as he could, Gojyo's name on his lips and his face prevalent in his thoughts, and Hakkai was surprised when Sanzo agreed to follow him home, not weeks or days from this visit, but that very afternoon. Why? Said Hakkai. Sanzo's mouth twisted. I've got a job for you.

So this is him, huh? Sanzo sneered at Gojyo. Not much to look at. Wouldn't think he'd cause such a fuss. Sanzo turned to Gojyo. I told the temple that you're not a half-breed. Just an unlucky redhead. Thank you, said Gojyo. Now here's what you can do for me in return, said Sanzo. But it means there's a good chance you won't ever come back here. Sanzo, said Hakkai, censure in his voice. But Sanzo ignored him.

I'm assuming you two unlucky fucks are a package deal. We're all going on a road-trip. You and Hakkai and Goku—you'll meet him later—will obey me, and only me in this. Do you understand? Sanzo's hard purple eyes brooked no argument, and Hakkai wanted to protest. What if Gojyo didn't want to go? What if he himself had other plans? Gojyo was hardly well, even now, and Hakkai didn't know how he'd manage any traveling.

But Gojyo just smiled and nodded. There's nothing for me here. Fire away, man. Where are we headed, anyway?

West.

 

Later, after Sanzo left, Gojyo turned to Hakkai. Guess this is it, he said. We're leaving in the morning. Gojyo looked hesitant for a second, but only a second, before he moved in close to Hakkai.

This time, it was Gojyo who kissed Hakkai and led him to the narrow bed. Gojyo was insistent that they do everything, as if there weren't going to be a tomorrow. He handed Hakkai lubricant and Hakkai took it. He thought, briefly, about what Sanzo had said. Perhaps there wouldn't be a tomorrow, not for them.

All too soon, Hakkai was easing himself forward into Gojyo. Gojyo cried out, and Hakkai quieted him with his mouth. I'm sorry, he said. His lips brushed over Gojyo's ear, over his jaw, down his neck. He felt the thundering of Gojyo's heart, smelled the spicy warmth of his skin. Gojyo slowly relaxed around him.

Keep going, said Gojyo. Please. And Hakkai did.

 

Gojyo's fingers uncurled from fists. He breathed quickly, slowing down from panting, his naked chest a wash of sweat. He wiped his forehead on the back of one hand, and Hakkai could see he had dug his nails into his palm. He'd worried his bottom lip to bleeding. Are you all right? Yeah. I’m just fine. Kinda took me by surprise, though, how much it was. Hakkai had the good grace to blush.

I didn't hurt you, did I? Nah, said Gojyo. He flapped a hand in Hakkai's direction. Ma gave me worse. This was not a reassuring comparison and Hakkai told Gojyo as much. Fine, said Gojyo. It barely stung. You happy with that, instead? And once you got going, man, did I not care. Hakkai's blush grew stronger. They lay with their hands tangled. False dawn began to creep over the horizon.

 

You okay leaving everything behind? Said Gojyo. Sanzo said we might even die. They packed their few belongings and boarded up the little house, a comfortable quiet between them. Hakkai smiled. I won't be leaving quite everything here. Gojyo looked confused, and Hakkai's smile widened. You'll be coming along, too, Gojyo. The light that went on in Gojyo's eyes made him transcendent, just for an instant, and all that light moved into the smile he gave Hakkai in return.

 

Hakkai a half-step behind Gojyo, they shouldered their bags and closed the door behind them.


End file.
